


Speakeasy

by Good_Grief



Series: short stories with even shorter plots [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Breathplay, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Female Uchiha Izuna, Fingering, Guess which half, I only wrote half of this while I was drunk, Izuna is a woman pretending to be a man, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Moonshiners, Oral Sex, speakeasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Good_Grief/pseuds/Good_Grief
Summary: Touka brings the moonshine as the orders roll in, winks at the bassist, and collects her due in cash. Izuna plays the bass in the corner, keeps the booze flowing, and smirks when no one else sees the curves beneath her clothes. The gin keeps flowing, the music keeps roaring, and the women keepwanting.They say it’s just going to be one time. After all, there’s real danger in letting your historical enemy into your apartment.
Relationships: Senju Touka/Uchiha Izuna
Series: short stories with even shorter plots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099337
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Gin

**Author's Note:**

> Well, now I’m contributing to the f/f tag and the Fem Izuna tag because I love them both. I think my love here is best shown by writing really smutty stories. This one was so fun it comes in two parts. 
> 
> It _comes_ in two parts. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**SpeakEasy**

The golden lighting in the speakeasy catches easily on the baubles and pearls that adorn everyone in it. The bassist’s instrument reflects an arc of light across the ground like a prism. The music hums low under the buzz of conversation, a work of art for sore feet to dance to. The bassist looks up for a moment and catches Touka’s eyes.  _ Oh,  _ she startles briefly, for sure it’s a lovely instrument, but the player is far more striking. 

His eyes are dark like coffee in the brief glimpse she catches, his bangs hang low over his face like he hangs over the instrument, with  _ weight  _ and  _ presence.  _ She knows there’s something a little different about him; watches the fingers closely as they press and hold the strings of the neck. She watches the slim neck of the bassist swallow around a swig of water in between songs. Touka knows then and there, from careful observation, that the bass player is not all he seems, in fact, in the dark of their eyes and the set of their mouth, Touka spies a secret; perhaps even a lie. One that she might even like to lay with, if she plays her cards just right. 

She knows better to approach the musician in the club, instead she sits by the bar and orders a drink, waits around. The bassist has a reputation as a cake-eater, but she wonders how much of it is true with the lack of rumours and speculation surrounding them. For now, she sips at the moonshine her family is famous for and waits for last call. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in this joint before,” the bassist takes the seat beside her, and where they looked small beside their instrument, now they’re as tall as Touka herself. 

“I usually don’t stay after dark, I was here on business,” she says. It’s true, Senju moonshine is XXX quality, guaranteed not to cause blindness or instant death. Anything you get up to while on the moonshine is, of course, excluded. 

Touka wonders if it would be possible to drown in the strangers eyes of black silk and promises. 

“Izuna,” her companion speaks, it’s a serviceable name but not a family one.

“No last name?” She asks. “How suspicious.” 

Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or a woman in a man’s. 

For her boldness she earns a small huff as Izuna orders the last drink of the night. “Uchiha.” 

Oh now this is good. The Senju have long been  _ political  _ rivals with the Uchiha. “-and yours?” Izuna asks. 

“Senju,” she states, as if her family crest wasn’t on proud display in the designs of her dress. 

“Well isn’t that just the cat’s pajamas,” is the sentiment she gets, all of Izuna’s suave demeanor floating away to give way to biting sarcasm with the revelation. “You’re not related to that walking dunce Hashirama?”

“Not closely, no,” she states dryly. She is of course, a cousin, but that could be used as leverage, and that’s not a fate she’s willing to tempt. 

Izuna nods once, almost imperceptibly, “and you know who I am?”

“Without question,” Touka states, her eyelids closing halfway to properly register a threat in her tone. 

Izuna just nods, unaffected. “One night,” she says. “Come home with me.”

“How can I trust you won’t strangle me in my sleep?” Touka crosses her arms over her chest. 

Izuna takes a moment to knock back the drink in her hands. “You don’t.” 

Touka’s answering grin is all teeth, “Sounds like fun.” 

  
  


Izuna’s flat is far nicer than it has the right to be. It’s a beat-up holl-in-the-wall stoop on the outside, but the inside is a treasure trove of autumn colors and plush furniture. Touka could care less. The flush on her cheeks from the alcohol is near invisible in the dim lighting, and Izuna doesn’t seem one to waste time. 

The lapels on her collar are expensive silk and Touka grips tightly to them as Izuna’s hands settle over her hips, the beads sashaying with the movement. The wall that Izuna presses her against is solid wood, and her shoulder blades protest under the pressure. And then there’s that hot, hot mouth pressed against her neck, teeth scraping against her collar. 

“Kiss me,” she says, breathless and dizzy. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Izuna replies and her mouth tastes like whiskey and sin.

The kiss is fierce, tongues tied and fighting, pleasant, but it’s  _ cute,  _ Touka thinks, cute that Izuna thinks she’s going to be the one in charge. 

She’ll humour her anyway,  _ for now.  _

Those hands at her hips wander farther down the push at the hem of her dress, and then find the slide fastener on the side. Izuna pulls away to whisper the word “zip” against her ear as she pulls the tab. The elaborate dress is pulled over her head, followed by the slip, leaving her in garters and stockings and silk shorts. The moment her breasts touch the open air Izuna let’s the clothing fall to the floor to bring her hands back to touch. Hands cupping the weight, fingers rolling the nipples, thumbs in circles and at that she’s decided that Izuna is far too overdressed. 

“Bed,” she chides, and Izuna huffs, but turns to lead her by the hand in the direction of the bedroom. The bed itself is the centrepiece, a four poster so intricately carved it was a piece of art. Izuna strips off her jacket and Touka’s fingers find the buttons. Beneath the layers of silk and wool are cotton bandages, and she loosens and tugs till they too fall to the floor. 

She follows them down on her knees to undo the buttons of Izuna’s pants, and Izuna makes no protest as she pulls down first the trousers and then the silk shorts beneath. 

From her vantage point on her knees, devoid of her clothing Izuna couldn’t look more feminine, her black hair falling out of it’s tie, the smooth lines of ribs, the delicate waist. She kisses Izuna’s hip, runs her fingers up as she stands to kiss her mouth again. 

She uses her momentum to maneuver Izuna back towards the bed. Her hands reach down to snap her own garters and untie the silk tie of her shorts as she does, and then she’s on top of Izuna, wearing nothing but sheer stockings. 

“You are really beautiful, and I’m going to make you forget your own name,” Touka grins, full of confidence and not unlike a wolf. She reaches down to pinch one nipple between her fingers and takes the other in her mouth. “Hah,” Izuna moans, “I’m going to enjoy watching you try.” 

“Oh yes,” she purrs, one hand slipping lower to brush against the fine hair between Izunas legs, fingers dipping between the folds. “Feast your eyes on me.” 

She lifts her head only to find Izuna’s neglected breast, this time sucking a little harder and not being shy with her teeth, she bites down a little just as the pad of her index finger slips over Izuna’s clit. Izuna  _ wines _ and Touka assumes that any loss of words on the Uchiha’s part is simply encouragement. She balances her weight on one arm to shift so she’s half laying on Izuna’s body, her face able to bury in her neck and nose at her jaw and her fingers content to rub little circles as she decides that she’s going to build Izuna up really slowly. 

Izuna turns her head and their lips meet once again, tongues to follow and Touka takes delight as she presses a little more insistent lay and swallows those soft moans. She thrums her own pleased noise as she drags her fingernail  _ just so  _ and swallows an unintentional squeak. 

She breaks away to comment, “you are so wet, so wet I could slip two fingers inside of you right now, and your pussy would let me, dripping. I could just slide right in.” 

“Fuck,” is her reply. “Just do it, c’mon, I bet I could take them so well right now, since I’m so  _ wet.”  _

It’s phrased like a challenge, and Touka resists the urge to take her up on that. “How about, you only get one.” 

“Two,” Izuna growls. “C’mon, you know you want to feel my pussy crush them when I cum.” 

“None, I’ll just leave them drumming your clit until you say please.” 

Touka sits up, leaving her hand still resting on Izunas’s breast, not moving, just settled over it. Her finger drums a steady rhythm over the bassists’ clit.  _ Rhapsody in patience,  _ she thinks. 

“You’re really just going to keep doing that,” Izuna groans, on edge with no relief.

“My family is known for being especially petty,” Touka smirks. “I could do this  _ all night.”  _

Izuna throws her head back and makes a mulish noise of frustration, but she doesn’t say please. 

“One,” she says instead. 

Touka taps a little faster, a short staccato that makes Izuna’s toes curl and spine cool. “Oh are you giving up your request for two?” 

“Yes, just…” and there’s that growl again, muffled by clenched teeth and frustration. “Inside me now.” 

Touka can hardly argue that, so she shifts herself back to a better position and finally grants Izuna’s wishes. 

The bassist is hot and wet and tight around a single finger and she cries out. She shakes like a leaf in the wind and she trembles already on the edge from Touka playing with her for so long. 

Touka, for her part, moves slowly, curls her finger inside to touch all the places she knows exist inside her too. All the places she knows will feel good. 

“Two?” She asks and it’s a question. 

“Please,” Izuna gives, her body rolling with pleasure but her words falling from her lips steady and deep. 

Touka doesn’t hesitate, sliding in another finger and letting Izuna enjoy the stretch. She curls those fingers and finds the place she was looking for, rough and hot and perfect. 

From her new position, she can lean back over to fan hot breath over Izuna’s pussy. 

Izuna’s hands untwist from the bed sheets to tug at her hair and she decides right then and there that she’s going to make Izuna  _ wail.  _

She slides her tongue out to find Izuna’s clit, and she delights in carving her name letter by letter as her moans pitch higher and higher, until it’s nearly a breathless squeak. 

  
  


She presses her fingers harder and slips her lips  _ just so  _ to suck on Izuna’s clit and she delights when the noises peak into a soprano and then there’s a hitch of breath and total silence. The hands in her hair clench and Izuna clenches hard around her fingers and her heels press into the mattress as her spine curls and everything is silent for just one moment. 

And then everything is wet, soaked as she comes hard and breathless, hot liquid splashed down Touka's chin and throat, running over her hands. 

Izuna groans and it’s as if the sound has given all of her muscles permission to relax into a boneless body of pleasure. Her eyelids close halfway over dark eyes that pool with warmth and a spark of amusement. 

“Touka,” she says, her voice a low grumble from overuse. 

Touka returns it with a smirk and a hum of her own pleasure, “mhmm.” 

“Your turn.” 

Izuna’s hands reach up to grasp her shoulders and roll, but Touka doesn’t feel the need to dislodge her from her illusions of dominance. After all, she got there first, Izuna is free to show her appreciation in any way she likes. 


	2. Moonshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Just once they said. (They lied)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the rest of it! Self indulgent, lazy editing and all the usual that comes with this series (dirty!) 
> 
> TW for mild-medium choking / consent mostly established in flashback but also able to indicate distress(and does not.) 
> 
> Leave me some love if you enjoyed this.

They say that it’s just one time. Just once and they’ll have each other out of their systems for good. 

Touka brings the moonshine as the orders roll in and collects her due in cash. Izuna plays the bass in the corner and smirks when no one else sees the curves beneath her clothes. The gin keeps flowing, the music keeps roaring and the women; they keep _wanting_. 

  
  


When the nights turn cold and her bed stays empty it’s all too easy to remember. Her own fingers map over her collarbone, a ghost of kisses and a hand wrapped around her throat, echos of her own small voice in her mind of when she told Touka that she wasn’t going to strangle her, but she wouldn’t mind at all of Touka wrapped those strong, strong hands around her throat. Under the sheets her fingers dip between her legs and she recalls a sloppy kiss to her aching pussy, a wicked tongue playing a wicked staccato and sending her careening to the edge. Lonely nights are filled with her uneven breath, panting as she desperately slips fingers inside and tries to remember what it felt like when she finally came undone. She finds herself missing the huff over laughter and the teasing lilt of Touka’s voice, how incredibly beautiful and composed she is, even as cum and spit paint the inside of her thighs.

  
  


It was just supposed to be one time. One chance encounter, and they could flush the attraction from their veins. Once was enough for a taste, and its after effect lingered until Izuna couldn’t leave it alone, like an itch that can’t be scratched. So there she finds herself, in the middle of the night, staying late at the bar instead of packing up her instrument as the Senju stops by for a drink. 

“Carefull,” Touka warns, “Folks might start thinking you’re a boozehound, if you keep getting caught at the bar. Aren’t you usually gone by now?”

Izuna loosens her tie and unbuttons the top button that lays at the base of her throat. She smirks as she orders her own drink for last call. “It’s business six days a week, and only one one for rest, the speakeasy can be my church if I like.”

“Is that so?” Touka asks, her tone piqued with intrigue. 

The alcohol is smooth and it roars like a lion in Izuna’s gut, giving her cause to be bold. She’s already had this woman in her bed, knows exactly where the night could lead if she lets it. “Oh yes,” she hums, drifting closer as to speak so low only Touka can hear her over the noise of the bar. “Forgive me Touka, for I have sinned, and sinned, and sinned some more.”

“Oh,” Touka huffs. “I am _very_ aware, your very religion is a sin if this is your church.”

Izuna laughs, hearty and full and finishes her drink. Touka shifts in her seat to sit ramrod straight and crosses her arms. Izuna follows her, as if pulled by a force as strong as gravity into her orbit, no matter how many times she told herself she wouldn’t be, “So confess to me Touka, where do you find your religion?”

Touka’s hand casually reaches out to tangle her fingers in Izuna’s tie, pulling her close enough that the words brush against Izuna’s lips in a mockery of a kiss. “My church is your body,” she whispers, and it sends a shiver of electric pinpricks of excitement through Izuna, “and I find my sin in the way you sigh and the way you taste.” 

Touka’s other hand moves to casually cover Izuna’s thigh, the bar covers the movement and the other patrons are too busy to notice the dalliance. This time it’s Touka’s turn to extend the invitation, Izuna has left herself wide open. “I love the way you kiss like you are drowning,” Touka says, and it’s _almost_ sweet. “Come home with me, just for the night.” 

It’s a statement, but it’s also an offer; Izuna can leave if she likes, but across from her is a woman who has already proven too tempting to walk away from. Socially, Izuna lives as a man, free to flirt and give kisses and make ladies _beg_ with her fingers, but for every encounter, she keeps her clothes on and keeps her secret. _‘It’s a fetish,’_ she tells them, a repurposed old word now in vogue under the right circumstances. They believe her. 

She can have them, but her station in life means she can never truly give herself to any of the women she flirts with, nor can she dare be seen with any of the men. Izuna had already thought herself to be resigned to the life of a perpetual bachelor. 

The temptation to give in again, to want more, to think somebody could _be_ more, proves too great.

“Well, you haven’t sold me out to the newshawks yet,” she drawls, as if she’s considering it when her mind is already made. “So yes, I’d love to.”

  
  


Touka’s flat is more ritzy on the outside than Izuna’s but the interior proves to be just as swanky, all rich golds and blush pinks. It’s near formal and posh, clashing in tone with the risqué flapper dress Touka has on tonight. 

That’s the part Izuna really feels, the beading and details under her fingers as Touka shoves her up against the door. “Not going to give me a tour?” She asks, breathless already. 

“No,” Touka huffs, kissing her neck and leaving scarlet lipstick in trails. Oh, Izuna knows that collar is ruined, but she’s distracted as Touka bites down. Her teeth press hard and her mouth is hot and Izuna moans loudly. 

Touka groans against her, and her mouth peppers kisses at her throat as deft hands undo buttons and slide under her shirt to find the wound bandages. 

As soon as her breasts are free there’s Touka, strong capable hands rolling her nipples between fingers and a thigh pushing against her to part her legs and grind up against her. 

Only one time, she said. It’s a lie though, because here she is, up against the door with Touka’s thigh pressed up against her clothed cunt. She’s crying out and grinding down, and she doesn’t even notice when the cries ring loud.

Touka drowns out the noise with her mouth slotted against Izuna’s in an open mouth kiss before they can echo over the apartment. Her hot tongue pushes hard and aggressively against Izuna’s as one of those delicate hands slides to her throat. She wines as her air is just a little restricted, her lungs desperately scrambling to catch up as her breath is stolen away. Her chest heaves and her breasts lift as she struggles, Touka’s hand firm at her throat. It’s better than she remembers, being overwhelmed and taken, pleasure ripped from her body. 

“Do you like that, my hand at your throat?” Touka asks, she’s not pressing tight enough that Izuna can’t talk. She already knows the answer, but Izuna is compelled to tell her and wants to please her. 

The answer is a long rumbling moan and a single word pushed past her swollen lips, “Yes.” 

It’s so much all at once, and her voice turns sharp as Touka’s thigh presses a little harder against her, she’s scrambling and clawing at the door with her nails as her oxygen is stolen and it’s making her hazy and floating on high. The harder her back arches against the door the harder her clit presses up against Touka’s unyielding thigh. “Please!” She cries, broken even as she is hardly undressed and barely touched. 

“Please,” she pants, breathless as Touaka grips a little harder, honey brown eyes flashing with something beautiful and dangerous. There’s always an undertone, a family rivalry waiting in the wings, a taste of possible harm that brings Izuna to see stars.

“Please—my hand at your throat?” Touka asks, emphasized by fingers gripping just shy of a bruise. “Please harder? Grind down on my thighs baby girl.” 

She emphasizes her point with a rock of her hips, and Izuna’s vision blurs. She feels her eyes water and tears begin to streak down her cheeks; her thighs shake before her whole body trembles and she cums, hard. 

The hand around her throat lets up but doesn’t let go of her completely, all of Touka’s strength and weight still pinning Izuna to the door. 

“You are perfect like this,” Touka says. “Never more beautiful than when you surrender to me.” 

Izuna swore she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t dare tangle with the family feud over a dame with a silver tongue, but here she is. Touka isn’t asking for her loyalty; doesn’t ask what her family does for a living. She pretends that she’s the bachelor jazz bassist even now, never calling her by her family name. In these arms she is only Izuna, and her cries are her own commodity that only she can give. Her family doesn’t own this currency exchange, and doesn’t command this power trip. In the speakeasy she’s the second son of a powerful family, but here she is the woman she was born to be. 

Touka’s hands hook under her thighs and encourage her to cling. “Come, I’ll carry you.” 

There’s no official tour but Izuna still catches glimpses of the kitchen, washroom and hallway as she is carried. A beaded curtain brushes across her back as they reach the bedroom. “No door?” She teases, “scandalous!”

“Shameless,” Touka teases back, “perhaps I simply liked the aesthetic qualities.” 

The whole room is rather pleasing aesthetically, there’s sheets of wine red and a large bed made of simple design but quality materials. It’s noticeably silky as Touka lays her down and strips her own clothing with impatience. 

Once she’s taken care of her own clothes, turns to Izuna and climbs over her on hands and knees, her body sliding up against her. 

“Do you want my fingers inside you?” Touka asks, and Izuna does want, she’s still trembling and shaky but she wants Touka all around her and inside of her. Touka’s voice is a soft rumble as she continues, and Izuna knows she’ll keep talking until Izuna says something. “I can stretch you out, I bet you’re so tight right now. I’ll start with one, and slowly, but I know that you can take three. You’ll get so wet that my hand will just be soaked and—”

“Yes'' Izuna says, desperate and flushed with heat despite her earlier release. She wines as Touka’s lips slide down to her chest to lick her prominent nipples. They jut out into the cold air like a gift for her lover to play with. Her mouth meets Izuna’s clavicle in a light surrounding of teeth and a threat for something more if she moves. The growl that accompanies the bite only serves to emphasize her wildness, It’s a promise of damage and pleasure. All of these things are so wrapped up in a stunning package that Izuna can’t help but to arc her spine into a curve and offer her delectable breasts up as if in sacrifice. 

There’s an audible snap of a belt being unclipped and the swish of it being liberated from its belt loops and tossed behind them. “Your clothes are getting in the way,” Touka says. 

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Izuna asks, intrigued and full of even the most primal of instincts. All of her instinct says to press up to Touka and rub her body against her like a cat in heat. Touka however, is far more controlled and Izuna finds herself quickly stripped of her pants and undergarments. It’s deft fingers that peel away the clothes even as Touka herself remains dressed to the nines. It’s Touka’s strong fingers that drift down Izuna's breasts and hips and down to her pussy. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” She answers. 

The folds part under her fingers to reveal a dripping wetness that Izuna groans about. She tips her head into the pillows and closes her eyes as the flush of heat and embarrassment turns the color of her cheeks rose with her blush. Touka chuckles and whispers compliments in her ear, that it’s adorable that her face is as pink as her pussy, and how pleasing it is that she’s already so wet. 

Izuna moans in a haze of pleasure as Touka runs her hand down Izuna’s leg, sliding under her knee and lifting that leg up and over her shoulder. It gives her more room to rub circles around Izuna’s clit. 

She keeps two fingers together as she rubs and teases. “Do you think you can take two?” 

She then spreads her fingers out wide, pushing insistently against the soft flesh, and Izuna moans as she hears the sticky wet sounds that her own body is making. She’s so wet that it would be easy to take two, but she wants more. “Three,” She says, and Touka must be feeling generous because she kisses Izuna softly and rubs the pads of her fingers against Izuna’s very wet pussy before she slips her fingers inside. 

Izuna can tell by the feel, the low burn in her belly and the stretch—the way her body resists at first, and then flutters and quakes with pleasure—that Touka has given her three fingers. They don’t move at all once they are in, and Izuna squirms as she gets hotter and hotter with no relief for the tension building. 

The squirms bring her to almost brush against the right spot and she begins first to pant, breath coming too fast and too hot as Touka’s tongue drags over her neck. Her lips finally come to rest over a nipple and swirl around it as she softly sucks. Izuna moans loudly as she grazes a sensitive nipple with her teeth, and the motion of arching her back pushes her down at an angle on Touka’s yet unmoving hand.

“Come on baby, let me know how much you want it,” Touka says and Izuna snaps. 

“Please! Fuck me, let me come on your hand. _Make me come on your hand.”_

“Mhmmm,” Touka purrs, “That’s better.” 

Izuna can feel her pussy clench and tighten as Touka’s throaty purr rumbles right through her, and then her fingers _move._ Izuna cries loudly as Touka rocks into her, rubbing deep against the spot that makes her legs shake, her heel digging into the sheets and the leg still up on Touka’s shoulder swaying with every thrust. The rhythm is steady and building and Touka’s mouth finds her neck again, this time not even bothering to be careful as she closes her lips firmly and sucks down hard. 

It’s going to leave a mark, and it’s that knowledge that she’ll be wearing Touka on her skin for days, wearing the memory of her for _years_ that makes her body tense like a taunt bass string and cry out, voice worn ragged and shrill as she tastes “almost! almost! Ahh! Fuck!” 

“Fuck, fuck me right there, hard! Don’t stop, don’t stop-right there! Oh-my-god! Please-fuck-please!” She cries in a stream of begging and babble as she feels all her pussy squeeze hard around Touka’s fingers. Fingers that don’t waver and stimulation that doesn’t stop and then there’s a thumb pressing into her clit as those fingers inside of her press _up_ and—

  
  


There’s a veritable flood of wetness that gushes over Izuna’s thighs and over Touka’s wrist. A wrist she’s almost surprised isn’t broken with the force of Izuna cuming as hard as she did. Touka is absolutely sure that Izuna didn’t realize that she came screaming. She’s not sure Izuna will remember whispering Touka’s name and falling bonelessly into an afterglow emphasized by bitten and swollen lips, bruises of teeth and hands on her neck and lipstick smeared over reddened nipples. 

She’s an absolute wreck and Touka made her this way. She feels proud and sinfully gay as Izuna drifts back to her in a haze. “Fuck,” she says. 

“Fuck,” Touka teases her. “Fuck, fuck and _fu—uh”_

Her curse is bitten off as Izuna shifts and untangles her hands from the bedsheets to pinch one of Touka’s nipples. 

“Alright,” Izuna declares, and Touka wonders where this is going. “I’ve decided.” 

“What have you decided?” Touka asks. She feels Izuna’s hand come up under her thighs, encouraging her to move up. “Now I’m curious.” 

“Two things. I’ve decided I want you to sit on my face until you cum all over all my mouth and all the pretty marks that you’ve made.” 

“Well,” Touka muses, “I can’t say no to that. What’s your other decision?” 

“We can say it’s a one time thing if you want, or we can say it’s a _one time thing every time_ if you like,” Izuna says, and she’s taking a risk here, her vulnerability written in the flush that reddens her chest and the tips of her ears. 

“Every time?” Touka muses, and she’s caught up in dark hair and dark eyes and low base notes and she finds that she wants this, wants to try this. 

Izuna grins. “Just once.” 

“Alright,” Touka levels. “Eat my pussy like cake and I’ll consider it.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have! - (SFW art for this story)
> 
>   
> I am also having hyperlink issues so here: (I will fix this later)  
>  <https://good-grievance.tumblr.com/post/634437297932222464/moonshiner-senju-family-and-racketeering-uchihas>


End file.
